


What If

by SunlitBird_101



Category: Bodyguard (TV 2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 09:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18312527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitBird_101/pseuds/SunlitBird_101
Summary: Basically a 'what if David hadn't strangled Julia' snippet





	What If

**Author's Note:**

> It's short - but yeh, something on my mind for a while.

Her eyes flutter open and her arm aches from the uncomfortable position it has been in on the pillow for clearly too long. She turns her head and sees the empty space beside her, a strange sense flooding her; disappointment heated with simmering anger that gives way to sadness when she feels how cold the bed is. 

She doesn’t know why she’s creeping across the threshold of her safety zone and into his wearing nothing but a silk camisole and panties. But there she is, stalking across the doorway like a hungry panther seeking its prey, sniffing out the warm body lying on his bed. 

Julia’s eyes adjust, making out features of the room that looks so small compared to hers. No wonder he resents her government, when they put her in a suite and him in a relative broom cupboard. Which begs the question, she thinks, as to why he would leave her king for the small double? She can’t deny it doesn’t hurt when she sees him lying on the bed, arms resting on his bare stomach, the blankets strewn messily over him. 

She looks down at him, something bubbling in the pit of her stomach that she’s unfamiliar with. She wonders if it’s love or hatred. She reaches a hand out to touch his face and decides she could never hate him. The mussed sheets around him imply he has been tossing and turning for hours, and she feels a strange sense of tenderness for him that surprises her. She swallows it like every other emotion she’s not ready to face. 

“David?” she says quietly and when he doesn’t answer, she moves to straddle him, leaning her face close to his. When her mouth is mere inches from him, she murmurs, “are you asleep?” 

He doesn’t show signs of stirring until his eyes fly open with an expression of pure horror and hatred that she immediately pulls back with a gasp. His eyes are dead, unlike the ones that gazed down into hers when making love hours earlier and it terrifies her. David’s hands go to her wrists, pulling her back to him momentarily, as her fight or flight instinct kicks in. 

“David,” she says with a gasp as they stare at one another until his reverie is broken and he just looks up at her with softened eyes, familiar eyes. She can’t quite bring herself to relax even when he lets go of her and blinks up at her. 

“Why... how?” he says, glance jumping all over, searching for answers, before he seemingly decides it doesn’t matter and reaches up to pull her face down to his mouth, his other hand resting on her ass. 

She hesitates before she lets herself respond, her hands going to grip his biceps before he rolls her with effortless ease and she’s suddenly looking up at him. The whole thing is hurried, rushed almost as he rocks into her, rough hands between her thighs, pulling her panties down and then he’s inside her. 

Julia doesn’t care that it’s quick, that he’s the only man who’s managed to make her pant and cry, and moan in far longer than she cares to admit. She only cares that for a moment she doesn’t feel lonely and when they’re both done, he rolls to her side, gaze directed up, in determined concentration. 

“Why are you here?” she says suddenly, still a little breathless and he turns his head to look at her. 

“What?” He frowns. 

“When I fell asleep, you were beside me, I woke up and realized you weren’t.” Julia hates the way she sounds so vulnerable and tries to affect a curious, yet removed expression. 

He averts his glance, staring once more up at the apparently fascinating ceiling. 

“I just thought it best,” he says, and she scoffs. 

“For who?” she murmurs as she turns away from him, torn between the decision of leaving, or staying. 

He remains silent for so long she’s convinced he’s asleep and she huffs, deciding enough is enough. 

“For you.” 

His voice halts her and she turns over to look at him sharply. 

“What?!” 

“I’m … just trust me, sometimes I’m just not...it’s better if I’m not around sometimes,” he shuffles through his vocabulary like a deck of cards, settling on a hand to play and she frowns. 

“David...” she starts to say but no part of her understands this, all she understands is that he left her, just like everyone else has. But she’d die before she says that aloud. 

He says nothing more, just sighs as if the matter is closed and she suddenly feels hotness spreading over the back of her neck and she purses her lips. She waits a full five seconds before she sits up, running a hand through her hair roughly. What had been something special now seems dirty to her, like she’s a whore to be sent back to her room. She looks back at him, waiting for a sign, some recognition from him. There is none and she sighs, pushing herself off the bed and stalking back around to the doorway. 

“I just can’t, okay?” he says finally, voice harder than stone and she falters by the doorway. 

“Come back to me when you can,” she says stroppily and she doesn’t wait for his reply, shuts her door behind her as she crosses back into her world, feeling cold and annoyingly, a little dejected. 

She’s back in her own bed and quickly forgetting the way he makes her feel; both the good and the bad, when the door creaks open and she turns quickly to look at the intruder. Her heart pounds furiously in her chest when he appears, half dressed as she had left him some twenty or so minutes earlier, but his face, just about readable in the dark, is troubled. 

“I just need you to trust me,” he says as he hovers above the bed, awaiting her approval perhaps. She doesn’t want to fight anymore; she fights against everyone all day long and her nights are a salvation from that. He just happens to have somehow become a part of that and so she pulls herself up to sit and look at him. 

“Okay,” she says and it feels weak. It feels weak to not be in control but alas, she accepts it anyway and he climbs into the bed. 

It all feels so oddly domestic; boyfriend and girlfriend sitting against the headboard, pillow talk and all that. But then he leans over and takes her hand, lacing his fingers with hers and she’s not even sure what ‘this’ is but she knows she quite likes it.


End file.
